Addiction
by walkingthruinfinity
Summary: All Isabelle wanted was to escape from reality. The death of her brother and her parents spliting up was too much for her to handle so she turned to crystal meth for help. But one day she goes too far and Alec threatens to tell their parents if she doesn't go to rehab.
1. Chapter 1

_1. What do you like about your drug of choice?_

The high. That incredible feeling of ecstasy where you have no responsibilities or worries to drag you down. You're lighter than air and everything in life is good and everyone is happy. The second it reaches your brain the real world melts away and is replaced with something better, something indescribably amazing. Colors seem brighter, smells seem sweeter, and everything bad gets shut out. You feel as if you're higher than all of the world's problems. It's like sickness, pain, and death can't reach you. It's as if you are invincible. But it feels like that only for a moment.

_2. What do you not like?_

The crash. The hunger. The irritability. The weight of the world tumbles right back on your shoulders again. Your body is drained completely and you feel exhausted, but your eyelids won't shut. Your body convulses awkwardly back and forth. Back and forth. You try to shake the feeling off, but it sticks with you. Your throat feels like sandpaper and nothing can soothe it.

_3. Is your addiction really worth it?_

Is it worth it?

For me, it was absolutely worth it. Having the chance to leave reality for a little while. To get to go to a place where my little brother isn't dead, and my parents aren't splitting up, and where no one has to rely on me to do things right. I don't have to be perfect when I'm high.

_4. Are there better ways that you can relieve your stress?_

Don't get me wrong I've tried other alternatives besides drugs to help cope with my depression; sports, yoga, dancing, alcohol, meditation, you name it. But the only way I can truly get away is when those meth crystals shoot up my nostril.

_5. Do you feel the need to keep doing drugs?_

I don't really say that I need it; it's more like a relationship. I want to snort meth and it wants to help me feel better. I know it's dangerous to do, but really ODing sounds like a good way to go. I mean you'll be happy when you kick the bucket at least. It's not like a car crash where you have excruciating pain. It's probably somewhat like dying in your sleep, peacefully in a state of happiness.

_6. What consequences have arisen because of your drug abuse?_

The only consequences I've had so far are of course coming down and just a few little scabs on the back of my neck from picking. They are so little and insignificant I hardly remember that they're there sometimes. My hair covers them mostly from sight.

_7. Does anyone in your family know about your problem?_

Most of my family doesn't know about my 'little problem.' Except for Alec. We've been through so much together I just didn't have the heart to keep it a secret from him. And of course he disapproves. He says that this will be the death of me if I don't get help. But I feel like I don't need help. I already have the help that I need. So I don't really know why I'm doing this. It's not like this program is going to help me. You don't really think I'm going to stay clean after this, do you? These twelve weeks are just going to make me want meth even more. Staying clean is not something I intend to do. Im only doing this for Alec. I owe this to him for what happened last weekend.

_8. Are you willing to accept the help of our professionals?_

I'll go along with your little meetings. I'll play by your rules. But I swear right after this I _will_ go back to doing drugs. You can't change who I am. I am stubborn. I am strong. I am Isabelle Lightwood, and I am an addict.


	2. Chapter 2

I can't take it anymore. All of the bright lights, the loud voices ringing in my ear, and the smell of burnt coffee beans are all too much to handle. Alec was asking too much of me this time. There is no way that I can cope with withdrawal; actually drugs were the way that I could cope with reality so there was no way I could get through trying to stop using them.

The people at this place are seriously messed up. Some of them have become prostitutes so they can pay for their drug of choice, or they're so crazy that they have to be sedated to be able to attend the meetings. I'm considered to be placed with the more 'normal' addicts along with those popular girls who try to be bad by doing drugs and their parents catch them, and people who are actually trying to change their lives.

I admire those people. They have the courage to face the real world head-on. Unlike me, I'm a coward and I know it. I can't deal with my problems so I shy away from them. At least I'm not like those other girls in the 'normal' group. I've only been here for twenty minutes and I can already tell that they're wasted. They can't complete a coherent sentence, and they are laughing their butts off at absolutely nothing.

I tried to keep my head low and tried to just be able to get through today. The head counselor lady, or whoever runs these things, hasn't even showed up yet and I'm already considering walking out. I had to remind myself why I'm even here. My parents can't find out about this. I'm already a mistake in their eyes. I can't disappoint them anymore. They don't need this problem on top of the one their dealing with. A divorce takes a lot of time and causes a lot of emotions to come to the surface. I can't put this on them.

Someone cleared their throat and everyone turned their attention to the short, stumpy lady in a purple pantsuit standing in the middle of the room. She looked to be about fifty-five and had fluffy yellow hair. She seemed to be a little unnerved, but I just assumed that it was because she was in a room full of crazy people.

"Welcome to Unity Rehabilitation Center!" The lady announced, her eyes trained on me, "My name is Sandy Cooper, and I am the head counselor here at Unity."

She walked, or more waddled in my direction. She stopped right at my chair and put an arm around me. "Everyone, this here is Isabelle, she's a first-timer. Now, Isabelle, won't you tell us something about yourself?"

Oh god, no I don't want all of their attention to be on me. I panic whenever I'm singled out. I can never handle attention well; my only wish is to vanish in thin air. My eyes stayed glued to my boots, and I tried to hide my face in my hair.

The lady nudged me a little with her arm and said, "Come on dear, we don't judge here." I continued to be stubborn, staying silent and shaking my head.

One of the guys just laughed. "Oh come on Sandy, she's not going to talk. I doubt she has anything to say anyways. There's nothing wrong with her, I bet. Daddy probably just doesn't give her enough attention so she turned to drugs."

In my shroud of hair, I bit back my tears. I will _not_ let these people see me broken. I am stronger than this. To my left a few girls snickered at the guy's response. That made my snap. Heat rose into my face as pure rage boiled in my throat. My fists balled and my nostrils flared.

I stood up and my chair made a loud screeching noise. I walked right up to the boy who was still laughing. Anger flashed in my eyes, and I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. His face was just inches from mine, and his eyes widened.

"You wanna know something about me? Fine. When I was twelve I had to watch as paramedics dragged my dying brother's body out from under a car. His skull was cracked and they had to saw his leg off to get him from the wreckage. I had to watch him slowly bleed to death in the ambulance because we were too far away from a hospital to get him help. He died in my arms and I still have to live with the guilt that _I_ was the one who caused the crash that killed him. Are you happy now?"

I let go of his shirt and pushed him back. Tears were building in my eyes as I ran blindly away from the building. I ended up on a curb on the side of the highway. I sat there just sitting and trying to calm myself down for what seemed like hours. I knew this was going to be a horrible experience. If only Alec had seen what had happened. If he did I know he wouldn't make me go back to that horrible place.

Whatever reasons I have for the things I do, I sure as hell don't have to share them with people like _that_. I don't need my whole life story out on display like that. I don't trust those people and I know they don't trust me. There's no reason for going there and being completely humiliated by my peers. It was my first day there and within five minutes they had reduced me to tears.

I stayed on that curb for what seemed like forever trying to calm myself down. The noise from the passing cars certainly helped, but the wind did not. It made me shiver and wish that I had brought a heavier jacket. I decided to check my phone and realized that three hours had passed. I had four missed calls from Alec who was supposed to pick me up at two.

I walked carefully on the side of the street back to the rehab center. When I reached the front doors I tried calling my brother, but of course there just had to be no service. I cursed sprint under my breath, and walked back into that terrible place. The signs directed me towards the office, where I assumed some sort of phone would be. To my dismay, as soon as I reached the office I saw that Sandy lady was in there talking with some guy.

I tried to be as quiet as I could, and hoped that she wouldn't see me. The door had other plans though, it creaked as loudly as possible when I tried to shut it, and she looked directly at me.

"Isabelle!" She exclaimed as if we were good friends. "I am so sorry about what happened earlier today. Drew can be very pushy with new people, but I'm sure that you two will become fast friends! I'm glad you decided to come back today because you still haven't been acquainted with your personal counselor. As you may know, I am a very busy person so I won't always be available when you want to talk with someone. That's where this young man comes in!"

She gestured towards the guy she was talking to. He looked to be a little older than me, maybe two three inches taller. He was a little gangly and had brown hair and glasses.

"He will be your on-call confident. Whenever you need someone to talk to, call him."

The guy held out his hand and smiled genuinely. He had a sort of spark in his eyes and looked nice enough. I took his hand and shook it gingerly. Maybe he could be trustworthy.

"Hi, I'm Isabelle. Nice to meet you…." I paused when I realized I didn't know his name.

"Nice to meet you too, Isabelle. My name is Simon Lewis."


End file.
